Sleeping With Ghosts
by Euphora
Summary: Inside the heart of each and every one of us there is a longing to be understood, but through life and death, nothing can separate the heart from another. Her most beautiful joy was through him, and through him, another… E/A erotica. COMPLETE!
1. To Be Loved

_**I like not only to be loved, but to be told that I am loved, but the realm of silence is large enough beyond the grave.**_

_**-George Elliot**_

_"Do you like it?" He lifted the silver chain before her, resting the tranquil crafted leaf pendent that hung from it within the palm of his hand, face content as he offered the exquisite jewel, smiling._

_Her adoring emerald eyes were valiant under the moonlight, with a basking afterglow breeze setting the peaceful rhythm to the swaying movements of the trees as they sat on a bench within the gardens of Ellesmera, darkened beyond recognition but set aglow eerily by the moon. Her eyes were set upon the green pendent hanging from the chain; the beautiful piece cast with sterling silver, decorated with rich green enamel._

_Her eyes blazed with bewilderment, her face motionless as she glanced into his brown eyes. "For me?" her sweet voice betraying nothing, but read openly within her eyes._

_His smile only deepened. "Well, yes…" There was laughter in his voice, the emotion clearly wreathed upon his face. He straightened up; clearing his throat slightly. "We were on our way back from Doru Araeba after we delivered our final contract to sign for the new order… We arrived at Osilon amongst our travels, and it was there I decided to roam for the matter of curiosity, as it were," he paused, his gaze comforting her, willing for her to listen. "My eyes stowed an elvan craftsmen on my walk. His stand was fairly discreet from other elves and his work caught my eye, and he was very kind." His eyes never left hers. "It was amongst the rarest jewels he crafted and treasured since the old order, so he says… I couldn't resist."_

_He shifted closer, the night air mellowing smoothly within garden glade. "Elvalëryn it is named, or in the common tongue: The Neverwinter."_

_He let the chain fall, the leaf pendant dangling in front of their faces. "I want you to wear it," he murmured, the small smile never growing old. "Not as a symbol of courtship, but as a symbol for the love I hold in my heart… for you." The leaf pendant shimmered under the moonlight, casting reflections upon her beautiful face. The answer was clear enough as she pulled her hair back, a smile of her own blossoming beautifully. He secured it around her neck, hands brushing her shoulders softly as she eyed down at the pendent nestled safely around her neck. He placed his hands lightly in her lap, entwining his fingers with hers._

_"I know the traditions of the elves," he continued. "But humans also have traditions that we cannot ignore… even if we wanted to." His smile faded, but the beggarly adore on his face; it was captivating, even for her… and it was enough to stern her ears. "Immortal I may be, but obviously, my mortal instincts of the past cannot be ravished and forgotten like a mere memory… though both seem rather unforgettable." he paused. "But when we love someone… we present them with gifts as a token for the love we hold, not to court them…" His thumbs stroked the sides of her hands. "I give this to you as a token of **my** love."_

_She sighed, but not with annoyance, eyes glancing deeply into his, the look upon her face made his heart leap. "It is beautiful."_

_"Yes," he said gently. "It is a beautiful object." he paused, leaving one hand in hers as he lifted the other to stroke The Neverwinter resting on her chest, his heart besting his head. "So be the one bearing it now… and always."_

_Her smile was gorgeous, and his eyes had become less amused and more adorned within the moment. He leaned forward, hand softly pressing down on her chest as he brushed his lips faintly against hers. With his other hand rested in her lap, she tightened her fingers around it as she leaned into their soft kiss, pulling him closer until it seemed nothing could pull him away from their clouded enclosement._

_The night air mellowed out all other thoughts from entering as they kept each other close, the light breeze picking up its leisurely soft pace. Tree's swayed in the soft confinement of the wind, the dappled leaves of Ellesmera ruffling like dancing apparitions cast by the rippling moonlight. Nothing seemed apparent; they only held each other close, sealing everything else out from entry._

_The Neverwinter resting between them as its radiance shone deeply like the moon itself, confining them with an invisible devotion ambitious from passion._

* * *

The sheer moment of returning to full awareness from entering a state that was concealed into a waking dream had never been a radicle sense of relief as some had posed it. The moment the sun appeared though her open window and crossed the tree-line horizon, Arya deepened her breathing, willing her heart to quicken as she finally opened her eyes. There was nothing her eyes weren't familiar with as they confided in the patterns that littered the wood coated ceiling, spreading and manipulating like an unescapable maze as she gazed above, lying still and content under her thin woollen blankets.

She watched the sunrise, stowing away her perilous thoughts as she felt its warmth comb her body like gentle silk caresses, a swift wind brushed with a coated warm sensitivity fumbling into her room…

Her hands crinkled the blankets, knuckles suddenly turning white… Her trance was supposed to be a place where she beheld many wondrous visions that kept her mind from weariness. Only now they served her as a burden, giving her memories she no longer wanted to endure for the sheer inducement of her quarrelling heart, shattered one too many times necessarily when she no longer needed to feel it ravage her mercilessly, feeling it plague her heart then finally capturing her soul into a concealed prison.

It was many moments later when she rose from the comfort of her bed, leaning up to absorb the morning air and to lazily adjust her sight to the growing awareness of the penetrating light her room quickly absorbed. Somehow, she felt as if her head had started to split, a quaking crack forming in all fores of her mind, hammering at her savagely. She raised her hand to let it sit on her forehead, sighing deeply when she closed her eyes again to take a few steady breaths…

Arya's eyes snapped open.

Her heart stopped dead. She suddenly took in all her surroundings within and out of her room, opening her mind and feeling nothing of the one reverberating mind she searched for. Her eyes stowed upon nothing as she fixed her gaze on every looming detail her room offered, without success, her mind instantly assuming, and her eyes suddenly bellowed in worry like a horrendous thunder cloud. She gasped.

Predictable. Of course she knew her reaction was profound and unneeded, but that didn't stop her from stumbling quickly out of her bed and towards the screen door that sealed her unmasked personality from reality, face becoming a marble cascade of emotionless stone as soon as she stepped out of her personal confinements and through the notorious gardens of Tialdarí Hall.

Her eyes, the only true revelation of herself, scattered through the tangling willows and ferns and the natural beauty of the Hall like a fumbling hawk, unable to find what only she simply needed to see and hear to ease her growing stress and confound weariness. The fear wasn't helping either.

An elf was sitting quietly at the base of a small lily bed, a small leather bound book residing in his hands, a strewn of luteous ferns sprouted beautifully above him. Arya regarded him as a simple wanderer filling their eternal time with knowledge for their occupation, as she glided past him silently without looking back and continued her distinctly noticeable search… but halted suddenly. She turn't back considerably, her marble mask betraying nothing of her gracious artistic features and the worry consuming her like a cold blanket. The elf was already aware with her presence when she offered the traditional greeting performed among their kind.

"I beg your pardon," she said confidently, assuring she wasn't trembling her hurriedness like an open book. "Am I intruding?"

The elf looked up and smiled politely, noticing nothing and folding a page and closing his book gently as if it were a jewel to treasured. "Not at all, Princess Arya, and the honour is entirely mine. How may I serve thee?"

Arya softened slightly, glad that she hadn't been of a nuisance. "Then I thank you for your time." The elf bowed his head slowly. She continued. "If your do not mine me asking, how long have you been here?"

He smiled again, slightly discouraging to Arya, but she was still glad he wasn't disturbed by her intruding question. "Exactly an hour before the dawn," he stated softly, "and if you don't mine my questioning, but why curious, lady Arya?"

She ignored his question and kept to her last consult. "If so an hour before dawn, then have you seen or know of where Eragon might be?"

"The young Eragon? He and your mother The Queen passed not long a moment ago." There was still the questioning in his voice, and for once Arya was glad for her title as a Princess, thankful that her kin would not dare delve to deep and over their line of curiosity.

She nodded, satisfied and thankful, her sudden exhilaration of confound fear disappearing. At least she knew where he was. "I thank you, kind friend. May the stars watch over you."

"As you will, Princess Arya. May the stars watch over you."

_May they indeed watch over her_… if they hadn't already disintegrated and died…

She thanked the elf again before turning her back, striding gracefully away just as she had arrived in her same puppeteered loyal manor. When she knew that she was a greater distance from the elf, she deliberately scolded herself when she thought about her actions just now. Of course, she had only feared where he could have been, she always did. There was nothing to be ashamed of. Did the elf notice her unsteadiness?

_No matter_… she thought quietly to herself. Pointless as it were, she kept considering leaving to find her mother and Eragon to check if they were alright. It had become a habit long ago after her many unnatural tragedies that seemed to find her in every looming dark corner. She wasn't thankful for it; after all, she gained it through the most painful conflicts throughout her long life, and it was sincerely annoying to put up with. _Always_ wondering…

_I need to clear my thoughts_. Indeed, she wasn't thinking straight. She never did anymore, not since the end of the War and since _he_…

There was a soft wind passing through the beauteous gardens of Tialdarí Hall, and she suddenly felt vulnerable and exposed against its kind mercy. She sighed, running her slim fingers through her hair gently, fingernails brushing softly against her scalp as the soft breeze plummeted against her skin like a warm blanket. She glanced behind her, the wind ruffling her hair in a frenzy cascade of beauty. She would never know exactly why she felt the need to look behind her… why she felt she wasn't alone when she had thought so…

Her eyes drifted to the beautiful sparse blades of grass bellow her bare feet; other then the grass, starring at nothing in particular but the ground itself, coming to the small, yet obvious conclusion… she _was_ alone.

_This is ridiculous…_

She ignored the fact that her hair was flowing freely within the wind like a billowing façade of hurtling leaves, her hand nestled in the nook of her neck with a soft coldness swathered upon her palm. She started walking away; her feet seeming as if they were weighed down upon her and dragging her back, only she continued forward without any trouble. The wind didn't die down until she reached her room again and sealed her screen shut… and, slowly but unsurely, pressed her back softly to the door and slipped down to the wooden floor, her legs pulled up, with her arms wrapped around them and her chin resting on her knees…

… and that is where she stayed.

* * *

_**Authoress notes :P **_

**_.._**

_**I'm pretty tied up with things in lala land at the moment, but be reasured I haven't soundly ditched you...**__**I was happy with the reveiews I recieved for Angel On My Shoulder, considering I asked for 30 I ended up with over 60, and still going. All were poistive, except one... (I prefer not to deal with #...#'S!!**_

_**Questions are welcome. Things I gather might seem a bit confusing, if not, good for you, but if so then just wait and be patient. Thank you.**_

**_Thank you again, and please... that little purple rectangular box in the bottem left corner that says "submit reveiw" ... do not ignore it :)_**

_**Story is based on the Placebo song titled "Sleeping with Ghosts." :P oh, how ironically knowledgable.**_

_**Fare thee well, for now... XD**_


	2. Because Someone Once Taught Me How

_ **Even if our eyes never meet again, you will always be in my thoughts. Wherever a breeze brushes by me and I smile for no reason at all, it is because someone once taught me how, and for that I thank you.**_

**_-Unknown_**

She never knew exactly how long it had been, but at last when Arya made to stand up, the adored cast of rippling twilight could be seen through her open window, setting the long awaited peace within her heart as she finally stood and disrobed then clothed into her normal attire she would wear when only within Ellesméra now, a beautiful moss green skirt trimmed just below the knee, with a soft sleeveless tunic of the same colour cinched at the waist. She had discarded her usual leather long ago, nearly beyond the memory of a normal human…

She had not been wrong before, she honestly did, wanted to, and needed to clear her thoughts, favouring a small piece of cut bread before leaving her room once again, only this time without haste and unneeded fearful urgency of her annoying habit. The elf was no longer there as she past the same spot where the lilies and ferns remained undisturbed… and thankful that there was no longer the tiding wind that made her so insagnificant and vunrable agaisnt its harmless flurry. It was peaceful, as it were and always. Nothing had ever changed.

She found herself walking among a frong of small flower beds, some as gracious and young as the old, but still both held some kind of perfect essance that made her feel welcome with open grace and comfort… yet they could never sooth the painful ach that continued to linger in the growing cracks that embeded her soul like concrete and stone… but she continued forth, following her unknowable path through the ancient wonders of Tialdarí Hall. Her home. Her prison…

Something about the setting sun of the dawning twilight reminded her of a time long since gone when her concreted soul felt alive, a peacful time when the now known ancient war of the Black King was long passed, yet now as she strived to remember when her vivid heart finally fell open to him, that was such awhile she craved for every word he once mouthed to remember.

It was just now. It was this time of day that made her recall everything. Always the twilight, nothing more…

She sat without a hesitant thought upon a lone wooden bench crafted and moulded to fit within the gardens, filtered in the range of large trees and creepers, hiding her once again from reality. Just as she prefered it. Alone with nothing but the memories to haunt her and yet love for their tresured company…

_- - -_

_"I fail to see your declinment, Princess Arya," he had said, something within his voice consulting of spontaneous laughter that made her feel so insignificant and foolish, though they were completely alone together. Under a wide oak deep within the Du Weldenvarden from which she sat, Arya looked toward him splayed and adrift in the small lake they merely found by coincidence. She still saw the small but noticeable dimples that spreaded across his face when he offered her a large smile. "The water is perfectly fine. I don't see why you must be so negative," he said, still grinning like a stupid trickster. _

_She hid her own smile growing across her face, having not the distinct capability to give in to his childish persuasions just yet. "I fail to see why we must go swimming like two children in a pond swarming for ducks! You obviously see no sense, even through the many years that have passed, you never change."_

_He grumbled, quickly ducking under the surface of the water and coming back up, a clear façade of dripping water slicking his body, pulling his tangle of wet and soaked hair through his fingers, then looking at her again with a mischievous grin. "But we are neither children, Arya, nor are we hunting for ducks. Will you not join me at all?"_

_"**You** can be such a child."_

_There was a faint breeze that sent a phantom of illicit ripples over the lake… and then nothing. His face suddenly changed from the happily adorned laughter to a sudden seriousness that caused her to consider what she had just said. She hated the fact that he had such an effect on her, when she would never once have allow it the many years ago._

_"Fifteen years gone," he said. "And yet you still consider me a child, Arya." He almost significantly passed for a stone cold statue, frozen beyond the normalities of cold itself. Arya's look of sudden disbelief and guilt formed through every barrier she held, her midnight curls falling over her obscured features as she sighed with frustration and moved to stand. She began to disrobe, first pulling off her boots and tossing them against his own discarded clothes, not having the heart to see his face from where he stood. She couldn't even imagine, nor did she want to see the glimmer through her clouded mind._

_There was no denying the heat that rose through her cheeks when she removed her tunic however, considering just once to see his reaction, but denied that even further when she recalled his childish behaviour that persuaded her into undressing before him. But all still, her well being never felt so gloriously capable of doing this, never felt so **alive**. She could have never seen herself doing this fifteen years ago, for him…_

_It was the moment where the twilight of the land had just began to set, always the time before sunrise… and yet always the time before dusk, which was the time they beheld now. The beautiful moment of ambient light… and in the basking afterglow light that shone down within the water, and by the reflections casting to the shores… she could finally see his face._

_His own look of disbelief was extraordinary. While she stood there, bare skinned in the glowing dappled light under the canopy that shaded them, his changed look of pure desire captivated her beyond the bounds of normal devotion, made her stand still in the guarded comfort of his bewildered gaze, his own barriers broken and dismembered, leaving the only look that answered all disbeliefs of utter lust and coherent adoration… _

_His eyes weren't only on her though._

_She was puzzled for awhile, but finally when she gazed down, she saw the pendant he had given her. Elvalëryn…_

_Arya gasped allowed when she saw it. Its beautiful leaf enamel shimmered under the rippling after light, illuminating the rich green from where she stood, the soft, filtered glow of its silver radiance mellowing through the perfect ambient. Her own eyes were captivated. Nothing had ever looked so beautiful to her… _

_She knew he was watching her, his gaze a fiery enclosement, and even when she sauntered forward and finally stepped into the water, she knew his eyes had never left her, both upon her and the Neverwinter resting around her neck. When the cool water lapped over her naked figure, she couldn't help but stifle yet another gasp from escaping her mouth, the shock of the pulsing water sending shivers up her spine. Unsure at first, she crossed her arms over her chest, the push and pull of the water had her swaying gently in its soft currents._

_She could sense the disturbance in the waist deep water as she felt him come up behind her silently; the light that was left had cast a melancholy dismal contrast around them in the silent night that was soon to come, and a warm gentle breeze lofted over the lake and combed her body in soft soothing caresses. _

_"You see," he whispered, his arms draping around her waist from underneath the water, placing his chin against her shoulder as he whispered gently in her ear like the wind against their exposed flesh. "All it ever took was my childish persuasions…"_

_She could feel his smile as he pressed his face in the nook of her neck, sighing softly with content as he led her away into deeper water. "And that…" she said in the same gentle note, leaning back into his embrace. "… shall never happen again."_

_He smiled again. "We'll see…" and his lips brushed tenderly against her cheek, his hand reaching up to stroke the glowing Neverwinter residing upon her chest. All thoughts disintegrated and perished… and it was only them once again through the darkening twilight. Their perfect moment of ambient light… _

_- - -_

Snatches of her memories continued to flash through her mind, all suddenly tumbling effortless into the smouldering lyric strains of her thoughts…

The uncomfortable silence ravaged her like the heartened ill-memories, and yet she could do nothing but love them still… she scoffed aloud through the silent revenue…

It was among the bench from which she sat that she had began to trace the wood coated patterns out of pure curiosity, slender and cold fingers brushing them gently like a blossomed flower in need of a soft and caring touch.

Arya played back her memories like a recorded chime, over and over again as her eye lids slid closed and sighed deeply with remorse. She was grateful for the looming trees silhouettes of cascading branches and foliage, desperately not wanting to be seen by the keen eyes of a passing elf…

They somehow had a mind of their own, her memories, reeling over and spreading through her captious mind like an infectious disease in need for something else to devour hungrily. They went deeper, further, and suddenly halted on another lingering moment.

Her eyes remained closed…

_- - -_

_The natural fertile plains of the Du Weldenvarden were rolling away towards a hazy horizon, the last perfect moments of the ambient light falling away through the beginning of night, everything beautifully immersed in a warm golden light, cast from the fading sun that stood deep into the west. Together they laid, their damp bodies entwined together like hand in hand, laid to dry from the lake that swivelled and swayed several feet away from them. Under the midst of a concealing willow tree that shaded them among its thin and loosely flourished vines upon the bank, the last remnants of the faded dusk illuminated them through light and shadow combined._

_Gentle arms encased her softly, the adoring touch of his hands placed upon the flat of her bare back. She was about to drift into a trance, her eyes sliding closed and falling deeper into his arms, the grass beneath them offering itself as a cushioned bed that made her forget that they were indeed laying nude together…_

_She tilted her head up, her eyes becoming a deep shade of emerald green she knew he had never bestowed upon before, looking deep within his own with a warming gaze as he only stared back. She lifted her hand, delicately stroking his chin with soft fingers, his own eyes a gentle mix of sentiment and comfort, before leaning down above him and placing her lips against his with a tender brush of her woeful desire among them._

_It seemed as if his hands were feathers, each gentle stroke always bearing a tender caress against her skin as if she were a breakable object. His immersed sense of touch had always surprised her, through fierce and strong hands made for wielding swords and killing elusive enemies, came the soft amendments of gentle hands destined to elope and caress like a tiding wind through a foliaged tree… though she pulled back, her lips remained upon his like his feathered hands upon her exposed back._

_"What is it," he whispered._

_She sighed gently, watching his eye lids slid closed as he breathed her air. She traced her fingers gently down his temple, her other hand pressed to his cheek as she stared through his concealed eyes, as if searching for something that seemed so distant from her grasp. "Love me," she whispered, her voice trembling softly as her eyes glowed beautifully._

_He slowly opened his eyes to stare up at her, his tongue twisting and forming through the ancient language as he spoke. "I do, Arya."_

_She smiled slightly, but she knew it was forced. "No." she said fondly, joining him in the native tongue, her expression soft as she faintly brushed her lips against his again. "Love me," she said again, her voice in a low whisper that he could barely hear. "I want you to love me…"_

_His breath caught in his throat as tried to form his next words; his bewildered face a silhouetted shadow through the golden wyverns of light, though ever variable detail was noticeable through his impassively wide eyes. When he blinked and stared at her, she met his shocked gaze with such an intense look his thoughts reeled away through a hazy cloud of hot water, swallowing painfully the hard lump growing within his throat as his cheeks blossomed through the golden light._

_He swallowed again, his lips trembling as his hands remained still "I- I cannot…" his voice was straining hard through the ancient language. "I mean… I don't…" _

_"We have waited long enough…" she said through a hushed tone, her voice becoming a wavering lullaby of sweet seduction to his ears, the long luscious vines of the willow above them swaying gently in the wind. "Please…" she said, pausing, her voice growing fainter as his eyes slid closed again through her hypnotizing words of seduced temptation. "Love me… "_

_"Arya…" his breaths were uneven, his jaw clenching as if in pain, though through both physically and mentally struggles as his eyes remained closed, sealed painfully. His surrender, his tentative lust of desire, everything she could see, all she could read through his silent struggle to simply obtain his dignity of control, though she preferred him to neglect it…_

_Their faces merely inches away from one another, she stroked the bottom of his lip slowly with the tip of her thumb, and as if to tease him, she flickered her lips upon his softly like the gentle sums of a whispered breeze upon the water, his head leaning back suddenly into the blades of grass as he opened his mouth and gasped sharply through the air he had been holding painfully within his reverberating lungs. "Love me…" she whispered once more onto his outstretched neck, kissing the same spot tenderly with a slightly changed poetic note to her musical voice, growing fainter…_

_She sighed deeply then… her breath warm against his neck when she felt his arms curve around her back, the gentleness of his embrace tightening around her as he pulled her up to meet his face, his lips suddenly ascending her mouth with a devouring hunger that made her react just as rationally to his sudden possessiveness. She leaned her head closer to him, lips strong against his own, their tangled enclosement burning through the golden transitions of adoring light. His hands trailed roughly upon her back, tracing up to her damp midnight hair, enticing his fingers within her luscious strains as he pulled her closer, burning their heated intensity within a consuming flame running beneath their skin like hot acid upon stone._

_"Whatever did happen to your childish persuasions…?" she said breathlessly against his lips, stealling moments to descend upon them chastely once more._

_His nose nuzzled gently against her cheek, hands falling to her shoulders as he breathed in. "Disintegrated and burnt through an image of beauty…"_

_The last moments of their golden ambiens of light were fading into the silent reveres of night, the willow above them swaying in time with the soft ruminants of the allied wind, nothing, no more, when they held each other close, seemed apparent to anything else surrounding them. Only ever each other…_

_- - -_

Walking away had never felt so right…

She continued forth, eyes to the ground as she descended away from Tialdarí Hall, aware that she had been lingering to long where she felt delved to stay, darkness alooming the high trees of the du Weldenvarden. She walked further, away until she found the last remnants of the pinewood city, walking away into the tasselled wooden monuments of the forest wilderness ahead.

No hesitant thoughts aroamed her mind as she continued further, going on without looking back, walking away…

It had to be this time. Always the twilight, the beautiful remaining moments of the ambient light. The golden wyverns immersed within the shadows. Always that time, a time she could never escape… though she adored them with all her heart and soul…

Further she walked, walked away into the twilight, the ambient light, the immersed golden light.

Away she walked, further into the fading dusk…

**_Authoress Notes :P_**

**_*sighs* ... always, thank you for the reviews, yet again I'm still hard pressed for them... It seems there have been alot of questions in regarding the last chapter, and all shall be answered in later chapters (actually, possibly the next) some I shall only give hints to:_**

_InheritanceFan1990: **You'll have to wait and see, and there are a number of hints towards who it actually is. When is it set? Several hints leading to that conclusion aswell. **_

_Julian Blake:** Perhaps it was, but then again the person also said he was once mortal. But you never know who I'm actually portraying. wait and see.**_

_EmeralArya: **I think your getting the point there =) but keep it to yourself in any means, thank you.**_

_LoVeEqUaLaUsElEesSlUsT: **No, I haven't forgivin you X( And I'm working till 9 on friday, but i'll be there. I'll get a bunch of horror movies and fairy floss. I ain't wearing no bloody mask though. Is it a sleep over? **_

_LeafRanger: **Perhaps it is a different love, perhaps not. It is a memory of the past and it is set way past the forth book**_

_-Al-perquire-: **Perhaps Arya doesn't want to remember it because it's too painfull? And one of the two you mentioned might be dead, and the eragon your thinking about might not be THE eragon...**_

**_Hope that helps. I was listening to John Powell: The Trailer, of which I stoll from the Hancock soundtrack (GREAT movie!) its on youtube somewhere, and it helped me get through writers block... it kinda set the mood when the flashbacks took place... ahhhh._**

**_Honestly, review will you. I have a total of 22 reveiws. I want to wake up and see 44. thank you._**

**_XOXOXOXOX_**


	3. The Wind Will Blow It Higher

Before you read this I'd like to apologize for the appallingly long delay. I honestly didn't want to post this yet, simply because the last chapters in comparison looked as though they've been written by a twelve year old. Hardy-Ha. Anyway, yes, this chapter's actually here, and before you read I'd urge you to re-read the last two. Please. It'd been awhile since I last read them, and I must say, compared to what I've been writing lately (my career, mind you, hence the long delay) they really do look dull. One day, I'll re-write them. Ignore the errors like I did. I'd be lying if I said I didn't cringe every now and then because of them.

_James Horner's - Prima Noctes_ was my muse for this entire chapter. Listen to it. Another interesting little titbit: the story has officially been shifted to "M" wink wink nudge nudge. XD Questions are welcome. Anyway, cheers from down under, happy New Year, and enjoy. AN's down the bottom. Tah!

* * *

**You can blow out a candle, but you can't blow out a fire. Once the flame begins to catch,  
the wind will blow it higher.**

**-Peter Gabriel**

Sounds of the final hours of dusk found her wandering alone on a distinct, isolated path through the darkened forest surroundings. Cascading down a light Maya blue glow over the ground like a mellowed silhouette, shadowed, harbored by the moon, the gentle balms of crickets playing their peaceful tunes within the darkness, moulding together and pervasive in the night. A gentle breeze, a swaying encumber of the high trees, intertwining together like a forgotten reminiscence, a beautiful instant lapsed under a notion of awareness.

She followed the safest, most remote route out of Ellesméra, her pace quickening through each precise step she took, gliding through the glades like a lost kindred spirit retreating to their safe haven.

The dappled leaves of The Du Weldenvarden fell silently one by one, down, listlessly to the depths of the woodland floor, collected in a sweet aroma the wind carried like a basking scent haunting the night air. Her skin caressed by the falling ruminates, falling as though hesitant, silently to her bare feet. A materialization of dancing apparitions under the subtle touch of moonlight as the guiding glow of light to lead her way.

As though unconscious to her movements, she slowly lifts her arm, whisking it through the mellowed breeze in her wake and absently rubs it over the surface of the lingering, passing trees, her thoughts unclear to her set destination. Her unknown path was leading her further away, somewhere uncanny, unfamiliar, further into the depths of The Du Weldenvarden, but she's no less harbored by the ill notion.

The wind felt stronger now, the night becoming unsettling.

Arya looked over her shoulder, her hair ruffling through the wind as she felt the shadows filtered through the moonlight begin mock her. Again, it seemed a strange feeling overtook her, something flexing within her as if to woo her into an unknown territory. The gentle easing enigma of her thoughts shuddered wickedly as if there had been a sudden bubbling from an overpowering wellspring deep inside of her. She had continued her path of course, looking back only briefly to be sure, just to be sure, though the small gesture seemed irrelevant and unnecessary. Only to be sure.

She stops though, blinking once through night air.

Her mind was beginning to taunt with her again, wishing upon her thoughts that brought only the unconditional pain through the blind path of her mentality, stumbling helplessly into a sleepless pit of memories that would forever linger to subdue her through needful desires and constant cravings she could no longer behold and feel. Her moon-washed face stared unblinking through the wilderness depths, her pose still and unmoving through the chilling breeze, all but her midnight locks still shifting and moving through the night like flawless streaks of black silk washed with moonlight. Her mind began to drift.

Through years that had passed, Arya had grown to accept the way her mind mockingly played wistful tricks on her. The way a certain sound could suddenly but unintentionally cause her to turn, expecting to see someone her memory perceived, but could never be. And at first, through such stern moments, such instances had been frequent, like the memories that would haunt her, but would comfort her as well, and then slowly fade, but they would never be gone. She would not allow it. And of course, she would always expect the one that could never be, only to realize that the vivid premonition was only fragrance and memory, and not a person in reality - not a place she'd been - nor a moment she'd beheld.

She would not turn and find him standing there among the trees with a taunting smile upon his lips, waiting for her.

The wind grew stronger, her mind still, only ever, drifting.

And here the memory was, suddenly bright and clear amongst the shadows… as if it had been there all along, just below the countless layers of her rationality, waiting for some kind of mental instability to awaken it and shimmer poignantly amongst the darkness.

A breath, a shiver of recollection, eye lids slipped closed and stalled, waiting, and never moving.

* * *

_Through cold, chaotic chills of bitter air that exceedingly overwhelmed her room like the piercing cold fronts of ice itself, and the shadowed darkness cast through the late night… Arya could feel nothing but the smouldering fire beginning to ravage her within. The feeling was alien__…__ and the nerves, such a strange feeling to experience, were not helping her either._

_And even when he stood in front of her, a small but painful distance between them, looking at his own reactions to certain feelings he had never experienced before were just as strange to see, knowing that he was feeling just as odd with all these strange, new emotion's they were both beginning to experience._

_It was such a new feeling, a different kind of adoration that seemed to mimic their undying devotion held toward one another with such a vast and compatible strength, unbreakable bonds that never faltered or faded. And to know that such a bond existed was simply poetic in its own beautiful symmetry, their symmetry held with such perfection. It was a decision she had never regretted, years ago now, her thoughts always hypnotically clouded whenever he was with her, and unusually distant and blindingly overcast in shadow whenever he wasn't. However, to think at the time of her acceptance of him, she could never have imagined the attraction beforehand would be so strong, a love to overwhelm and outlast for eternity._

_She could never fathom one progressive thought during this moment, her thoughts suddenly spiralling into a bizarre disarray of swept emotions, all progressively overpowering her sense of reason and filling her with such a need and desire, both physically restrained and possessed by pure and coherent lust. To think that such need was strong when he was simply around her, the joy that coaxed her when he would merely say her name, the adoration that surrounded them whenever they got close__…__ nothing, as it seemed, through gentle moments like these, could ever prepare to compete with this feeling. A more beautiful moment such as this could never be conquered _

_There were times they had decided to become closer, to fulfil each tentative desire with one simple step at a time__…__ until those simple steps finally led them to the ultimate testimony. Here and now. And they had waited. They had waited so long until the moment of fulfilment had finally come, where their deepest connection would become the deepest circle of bondage that would forever prove unbreakable. The art of giving each other__…_

_Arya took a long, shuddering breath to subside her already unsteady breathing, looking closely as she watched him through both moonlight and shadow. She stood perfectly still, watching, waiting__…__ nothing but the wind to pass between them in silent strays through the night air. He looked up at her, his eyes betraying his most deep and subtle desires, and the all-too-noticeable awareness of complete and profaned happiness. Everything she could see so clearly, as if it were a deliberate act. Wounds of tenderness, like a sweet note vibrating on the evening hush, a joy too intense for the heart to bear. How easy she had fallen._

_Arya met with his eyes, her own such a scorching whirl pool of hypnotic emeralds of seduction. And like an instant flame, it was there, alight and unmistakable. The undeniable longing of such wanton lust. It had always been there, hidden within his own confinements of restraint, and looking at him now had never caused such an uproar of sudden need, such craving for one being that seemed impossible to even experience. The powerful awareness between them, of his own physical presence; his body relaxed and still in front of her, it was all mixing and forming together until it burned; burned her wickedly with a naked desire she wanted him to envelope and caress until it burned no more._

_The intimate glance took her by surprise, but neither distraught nor frightened by it, she could only stare back as he watched her through open tenderness and adoration, never moving. The moonlight slanting through her open window caught and emphasized his needful stare, the upward curve of his eyebrows and the sprinkled glint upon his lashes, the intensity held within them already spoken through wordless murmurs whispered by his longing gaze._

_And all she could ever do was look back. With no words spoken between them, she watched tentatively as he suddenly slipped his hands under the hem of his tunic, her unsettled excitement suddenly raging through limb from limb as she stared through the aglow light of the moon. She opened her mouth, words meaning to be spoken, but the silence continued without a sound to disturb the air as she grasped her voice from whimpering in her desires at the sight that stood before her. Her long awaited completion and perfection. _

_It seemed impossible for such a yearning heat to subconsciously exist within this bitter coldness, but immediately her assumptions were made positively clear when the gaze he bestowed upon her lingered and remained only on her. It made the base of her throat suddenly hot and painfully swollen just to look at him, the emerald held in her gorgeous eyes burning._

_He lifted the fabric off slowly, his eyes still cautiously upon her through his gallivant movements, revealing the outline curve of muscle on his chest as he rid the linen tunic from his body, leaving it to plummet to the province of Arya's floor where it was left discarded and forgotten at his bare feet. She stared; the strange and agile consuming emotions played her like a chime, inflicting such nimble feelings within her like the fingers that played the tune deep within her abdomen. _

_There had been times when they would simply let loose any progressive thought to their surroundings and simply bask together without any necessary barriers to withstand what they simply enjoyed. The times when they would spend together alone were always moments to be cherished, she knew that. There would be days, and there would be nights, but all had been beautiful and perfect. He had opened something within her, finding something that not even her mother could seek. He had been without the need of clothes before, and she too. It was not something to be merely surprised about._

_But looking upon him now had never stirred such ravenous lust beforehand, such burning to cast among her body, passion and excitement melded together. Perhaps it was just the heat of the moment, or the unfamiliar indulging awareness of what was to become, but the unmistakable feelings and anticipation that grew upon Arya were hardly imaginative__…__ and his own look already spoke the thoughts that roamed his head. Delectably the same as hers._

_She thought she would be prepared, accustom to the unknown feeling of need, but her thoughts could not comprehend the simple but obvious fact that she had indeed been wrong. This new and alighting experience had taken her by surprise, a beautiful feeling that she could never have fathomed beforehand when she asked this of him. Again, it was so strange and alien, so unfamiliar. She had been wrong. Nothing could have prepared her for this._

_She realized he was waiting for her, his undoubtedly composed posture unmoving among the shadows, his dark eyes set. Her breath caught silently through the silence, the only little noticeable sound to betray it. What cast as a beacon within her was set alight furiously and ablaze. He had made the first, anticipated move that sent her reeling, rapidly without the apparent effort. It was her move now, and he was waiting.__…_

_Her thoughts spiralled out of control, all rapidly falling into an unknown darkness cast by the bitter night, falling helplessly into a bottomless pit until there was nothing but him and her. Two heartened souls framed together into a combined unity of nameless passion. _

_And so the one feeling possessed her, nothing but that one single thought to lure her, blinding her from the world. She lifted her arm, raising it slowly through silver and shadow, as he had done merely moments ago__…_

_Her fingers slipped downward, the beautiful emerald glint within her eyes seemingly glowing through the dark as she kept them focused on him, and he her as his chest lifted and fell through the moonlight, coating their bodies in silver radiance, his own seeming to betray such inability to remain where he stood, his jaw set. She traced a cool path down her neckline, keeping her breath locked and still as she continued. She tugged upward, pulling at the hem of her moss-green dress as she stared, aware of the fickle emotions that played upon his brow through her eased movements, and the desperation she saw that tempted him to loose control were shattering. Playing him like a chime, just as they were for her. Her act had been deliberate, tugging slowly on the thin fabric, a harlot's tease, and she knew it._

_The linen slipped from her body, falling freely over the smooth swell of her breast with a vulnerable flutter, and finally lingering over the soft curve of her hips, where it stayed in the most hypnotic of sights, and there she stood motionless in her silent revelation__…__ and exposed under his ever watchful gaze through the rising hunger. Her skin gleamed within the pale fire of the moon, her flawless beauty reflected through the captured bewilderment of his agape eyes, things within them falling helplessly into a disarray of swept emotions. She closed her eyes for the briefest moment, basking in his gaze whilst another cool breeze brushed through her window, breathing in the welcoming scent that flew within it. And as time passed for the shortest of moments, Arya's eyes slipped open, meeting with the same lingering look that left her yielding to the fire within her. Her hair tossed and fumbled tamely through the breeze, locks of ebony strands flowing and falling over her moon-washed face, gleaming under the very beauty it created through the night. An obvious portrait of perfection, waiting to be painted._

_Their eyes held, his own fighting to keep from travelling further down her gleaming body through his disorientating means of control, their lascivious awareness growing until it consumed all. Her dress hung at her hips, loosely covering her lower body by the smooth curves keeping it from toppling to the floor, her body tense under his gaze. He stood there in the silence, the words upon his lips unspoken but heard through his lust filled eyes; the breath he needed fumbled and perished before it could enter his lungs. There she stood under his gleaming sight, a perfect symbolism of wondrous beauty within the moonlight, his love and perfection. Beautiful._

_He took a step forward, his bare feet stealth and light upon the floor, the shadows cast by her trimmed silk curtains danced like forgotten ghosts within a tune created by the mellowed wind. His eyes were centred on her, unblinking and unmoving as he walked silently toward her, and Arya watched. It seemed to last forever, her breaths growing short as he continued to stalk forward through moonlight and shadow, the night seemingly growing colder with each step he took as a shiver wondered aimlessly up her back. Continually, she could hear nothing but the faint ruffling of the curtains, their swaying movements mixed through the wind, its soft caresses against the wooden panels__…__ and his silent footsteps sweeping over the floor as he walked toward her. Such deliberate movements haunted her beyond dreams._

_And then he was there, no closer than a hairs breath away from her, leaning down toward her as his rushed breaths of cool air suddenly washed over her hair like caressing silk. Arya remained still as she fought the burning heat simmering through her body, the pricking coldness failing to withhold its path despite its passing chill through her spine. They stood there together in their passing silence. Him, breathing in her enticing scent that overwhelmed him beyond imagining. And her, relaxing in his very presence that comforted her despite the ravaging flame consuming her insides._

_She heard him breathe in amongst her physical inward battle, inhaling sharply through the night as he inclined his head slowly toward her with the cool wisps of air that played upon his skin as he tentatively skimmed his cold cheek upon the curve of her neck, and the faint algid chill of his lips barely beginning to caress her skin before she suddenly sighed aloud deeply through the possessed feelings overwhelming her by his intimate gesture._

_"Arya," he breathed softly, barely a whisper over her skin, his lips teasing upon her neck as the silence once held was broken through his longing voice. She remained still as he played upon the curve of her flesh, enjoying the wondrous feeling as it provoked her beyond the bounds of control, feeling what restraints she once possessed long ago dismember and falter through his tender adore. "Beautiful Arya__…__" he whispered longingly over her naked flesh, kneading it softly with his cold lips, his voice barely audible. She allowed him further access, inclining her head slightly as she steadily leaned into his touch automatically, feeling the quivering ligaments of her body willingly submit into the leering captivity of their ever growing proximity he continually created through such harmful movements._

_"My Arya__…__" his last but abnormally soothing words of adoration leered her into unknown but welcomed territory of such wanton tenderness. So invoked with this feeling was she unaware of his hand slowly beginning to move tentatively up the smooth curve of her back, while he brought the other over the base of her shoulder to rest upon her neck where he remained devouring her nerves to the brink of insanity, angling his body closer. _

_Such harmful movements, however, soon ceased into something much more profound and reeling as the hand that was left by his side was suddenly brought to the curve of her hip, where the linen tunic that was half removed still remained unmoving upon her body. A short loss of breath escaped her soundlessly, like a whispered word murmured into the darkness. Her hands reacted upon their own awareness, slipping nimbly into his soft russet strands of hair as she pressed herself against him, her head falling against his own as he claimed her neck within the fire of his lips. She felt him lean into her, his naked chest pressing firmly into her breasts as he suddenly clasped his arms around her back, securing her addle body within his possessive warmth as if she were falling away from him._

_And then his lips sought hers, and she knew she was beyond coherence. He captured them without hesitance, taking them without heeding caution, moving without faltering. He held her to him, claiming her lips rapidly as he cradled her form against him, his hands greedy upon her back. She responded instantly to his lips, a flicker in her eyes as she imitated his supple kiss through her own, her hands growing tight upon the hold in his hair. She could feel him within his touch, his lips lidded with desperation, an impending longing forestalled through each passing moment. She felt her abdomen sear with vigour._

_Arya's fevered breath grew short, but she couldn't pull herself away. She didn't have to. His lips found her neck again, however this time they didn't linger. He trailed his lips further downward, fixated upon the flesh he continually tormented through his provoking affection, casting his attention over her gasping chest. When he moved further, Arya opened her mouth, words meaning to be spoken but remained a fickle blur on the tip of her tongue. The world itself was forgotten entirely as her eyes slipped closed, losing herself amongst his possession._

_She was startled entirely when his coursing lips suddenly enwrapped around her naked breast, her eyes soaring open upon the realization of his agile movements. She gasped amongst the night, the sound of her tainted voice reverberating through the darkness. She felt him sigh against her skin. Her mind couldn't begin to fathom the reality of his tendency, his act of will that led him to such a rash gesture, but she could neither care nor give the will to do so for her well being, for she fell to the merriment of his lips, her thoughts agape._

_She seemed to lurch in his grasp, staggering hopelessly within his savour. He grazed his lips roughly over her nipple, his tongue slipping out to lap smoothly over her swollen peaks. He played upon her skin like a chime, teasing her and wooing her until she felt herself convulse within his arms, but he never let go. He strayed his tongue over her breast, sucking her, grazing her, driving her through a haziness of windswept malady, marking her. The cool air swept over their bodies, hers alight with emotion, wavering through the dark as her fingers savagely gripped his hair, his devouring with worship._

_Her breaths came quick, feeling his fingers knead the skin of her back as he suddenly fell upon his knees, his lips leaving her breast as he dipped his head down. He delicately skimmed the flesh of her abdomen, trailing his moist lips over her stomach as Arya restrained her voice from within, desperate to hold onto her sanity from evading her completely. He carefully brought his hands down her back, setting them gently over her hips where the linen dress still remained, delicately slipping his fingers within the hem and pulling. She felt her legs buckle abidingly, her ligaments failing her under his taunting movements, her hold on him tightening. He slowly pulled at the linen, his touch gentle as he slipped the cloth down her body, leaving it to fall at her feet as she swayed within his grasp, his hands gripping her to prevent her from plundering into a helpless disarray._

_With a sudden moan, she released his hair and grasped his shoulders, agape and completely overwhelmed. Without ceasing, he persisted to hinder her helpless beyond her mentality, kissing her, touching her, devouring her with his lips, trailing them simultaneously over her flesh and within and without of her nerves. Her eyes lulled, her hands fumbling over his shoulders and to his neck, leaning into him, yielding and succumbing. He kissed her hips, touched her naked thighs, roamed and caressed her legs, and grazed his teeth gently over her skin. She bit back a gasp, restraining herself further under his will, but withered uselessly within the defeat. The feeble attempt was meaningless and pointless to reason… she could never deny him._

_Direly, as if desperately, she reached down and clutched him beneath his shoulders and pulled him from his knees, frantically pulling him toward her and pressing herself into him. He compelled easily enough, standing and seizing her by the hips and curving himself into her as she did him, groaning against her as he captured her lips abruptly and moulded their bodies together in a flurry of warmth and heat. Arya lowered her hands, faintly trailing her fingers down his arms and then his torso, touching him in places that elicited the softest sounds of his merriment. Her fingers stroked him, moved over his ribs and outlined the curve of muscle over his chest. She caressed him until he lifted his chin and released a heavy breath, tightening his hold and inclining further into her body as he secured her beyond escape. _

_She touched him without hesitation, the palms of her hands pressing against him leisurely until finally they descended downward to the cincture of his leggings, slipping them delicately over the hem and tracing them over the boarder of his hips. He was having trouble breathing; she could feel him as he pressed his forehead within the curve of her neck, his hands trembling with expectancy as his lips parted over her skin. Her whole body seemed to reach for him, to be fused and centred within his touch and embrace, hampered by his reason and his lust for her being. She could feel her own anticipation as if it were a living entity, feeling him tremble and rapture within her poise. She smiled, her hands falling to unbutton the holds to release him._

_She suddenly felt his hands fall beneath her thighs, so quickly and so desperately he was that she didn't register his movements until she felt herself lifted from her feet and into the pillar of his arms. She cried out, startled and agape by his sudden ambition, feeling his arms entangle around her and brace her body against his chest, a slight curve of a wry smile etched upon his face. She couldn't help it, when he hurriedly turned and spun around toward the bed, she couldn't help it at all. She wrapped her legs abidingly around his waist, clung to his body as he cradled her and laughed amid the night. She could feel his tremor of restraint to hold his own, but the smile upon his face was enough to know his delectation was apparent. She had not felt this happy in eighty years._

_Arya shuddered within his arms, with his mouth now on her chin, her throat, her breasts once again, everywhere he deemed necessary to torment. She could feel him move carefully, slowly and measurably as though he would drop her at any moment as he walked forward, but she knew his grasp would linger without faltering, not whilst he carried her. When he stopped, however, she felt him loosen his hold over her, allowing her to slip ever gently from within his arms. He placed her upon the edge of the bed, cautious as to where he'd put her, and released her. She stood up on her knees so she could reach him, leaning up and slipping her hands over his neck. He moved his hands over the curve of her body, feeling her against him before bending down and taking her lips with his. She submitted to his comply, reeling within the sensation of his need and demand. Their mouths forged together, moving and kneading as if framed within an annulet, allowing one another to appease and soothe each others desires, as if shaped within a dance._

_He stood pressed against her, moving his palms up and down her naked hips, his lips parting and closing in time with her own. She felt the subtle shift in his body when he purposely pulled back, his hands lurking just beneath her breasts, waiting. Arya let out a long breath and pressed her forehead into his shoulder. She breathed in and slipped her hands down his ribs, feeling him sigh quietly as she lifted her head to look at him, searching. His eyes were dark and shadowed beneath the moonlight, emphasizing the very charge of desire that flickered upon his face. She knew he was watching her, even if she couldn't see his eyes beyond the dark and its veiling silhouette, she knew._

_He lifted his hand silently and lightly touched her cheek, breathing in. Her own hand sought his; placing it upon his own as he brushed her chin delicately with his thumb, starring. It seemed as though he would gaze forever, straying nowhere unto morning or further, but when both hands suddenly slipped down to his leggings she disregarded that thought almost instantly upon his intentions. Her hands followed in pursuit._

_He unclasped his holds, leaning into her as if for support, his forehead pressed into hers intimately. She trailed her fingers down his arms, tracing him, falling until finally her trailing hands found his and helped them rid of the material. She entwined her fingers around his own and pushed the fabric aside, angling and inclining into him as he leaned forward slightly to shed the rest of his leggings, stepping out and leaving them to plunder to the floor as she grasped his wrists and pulled him toward her. He quickly sought her lips again before either of them could topple to the bed, parting them so he could veer her tongue and caress her with his own. They moved up the bed, wreathing and interlocking together within a mesh of chaste movements, their bodies urgent. _

_Her hands fumbled over his back, clinging to anything that could possibly bring him closer. She arched into him, feeling his weight press against her when he brought his hands to her sides, his chest heaving within the exhilaration of her being. How her soul filled with longing. She felt it as if it had slipped away, her reason dim within the rising hunger. She could not think beyond coherent thought, or his body. She felt the sensibility within her, once kept and headed, now falter and perish beneath his tendency. She felt the need within her, the elemental power of lust, so much that she was trembling for him. She had no sanity left through the course of her demise, nothing left to master it, no voice of reason, and no careful act. She was drowned._

"_I love you…" her strained voiced dropped within a whispered coax, her breathing hitched upon her murmured admittance, but she knew that he had heard her… she could feel his typical unhindered smile. But when he halted slowly to look into her eyes, his lips lingering over her own just faintly, she knew her assurance needed no more clarification. She stared up at him, her breathing mellowed, her eyes in wonder as her chest rose and fell. She could see his eyes. No longer were they concealed in darkness or shadow, but instead atoned within his usual comforting brown, his intricate of unmoving innocence and kindness. It was always his eyes, even if unprovoked; it was always his eyes that spelled his heart, his very being and nature. Yes, she loved him…_

_Something changed in his face, a sudden flicker of tentativeness, an unexpected softening. Within a moment, however, he composed himself as if nothing transpired, a perceptive hideaway that she saw through easily, but still, she merely waited for him. He breathed in. Slowly, he leaned his head down until he turned his mouth to her ear and whispered tautly, "I know…" he touched the curve of her earlobe with his tongue. She bit down her gasp. "I suppose… it was just a matter of time and patients, after all." There was laughter in his voice, his words littered with amusement, and yet there was a truth among them. Always the child… _

_But when he lifted his head to look at her once more, all diversion and recreation suddenly vanished from within his face. His eyes glazed over, something in them lighting and dawning upon his contemplation, his absent musing of speculation. And she understood. She didn't need words to interpret the direct look, the sudden flair of hidden tentativeness, the way his hands kneaded the skin of her naked hips. She looked up at him silently, waiting, watching as he leaned against her and lightly traced his nose over the brow of her forehead, sighing weakly over her skin before murmuring, "As do I, forever, until the day of my wretched undoing." Her body seared. He pulled her closer, his body imminent to her awareness. "I'm at your feet…" and with his disclosure, she felt her barriers plunder._

_She lifted her head to take his lips, to capture his lucidity and steel his wit. The very fealty of her hidden devotion now sprung forthwith and poured within the pillage of her kiss, mimicking her desire through the reflections of her desperate wants and needs with a sudden rage of fervor. She felt his body move above her, his hands grasping her and pulling her into him, emplacing himself between her. Her fingers came up to touch his shoulders, to clutch them and draw him closer, to bring him into her and seal their fates. She wanted nothing more. They had waited so long._

_He was warm to the touch, his skin alabaster under the moonlight. Her legs spread submissively beneath him, willing him to take her now, swamping him with her compliance. She felt his palms slide beneath her breasts and around her, bringing them urgently to her hips and securing them within his hold. Yielding into his possession, into the fiery depths of his soul and heart, she permitted herself the sanctuary of peace, of love and devotion, adore and sentiment alike. And within another elusive shift of his inclosing body, her breath hitched, he held her to him and buried himself within her…_

_A sensation like no other soared within her, delightfully surreal and undeniably beautiful. Her eyes, encumbered by a notion akin to wonder, suddenly widened beyond understanding. It surged throughout her body, strayed from one place to another, possessing her, enclosing her, surrounding her entirely until the little air within her lungs faltered. She could feel his body, his breathing subdued slightly, his head hidden in camber of her neck, wavering. Beyond the satisfaction, however, she felt the ache, and she gasped suddenly as she sensed the dull twinge lurch almost instantly upon her awareness, clutching him to her and holding him close as though she wanted to hide in his embrace, feeling only him, only ever him. _

_His breath was quick against her neck, stalled somewhat and suspended within a quiet tremor of serenity. He was waiting for her, she thought, feeling him tremble and shudder within her hands, as though he was deliberately forestalling himself in time for her consent. She smiled suddenly, tense, moving a little to look up at him, her eyes bright and luminous through the darkness. Upon her shifting he too looked, his features almost unreadable in the silhouette of their longing, starring. She lifted her hand, silently aware of his stalling gaze, moving it until she placed it affectionately upon his cheek, holding his eyes, and whispered almost feverishly, "Eragon…" She breathes in, feeling him move his hips delicately over her own, feeling him, feeling him everywhere. She leans her head back into the pillow, eyes slipping closed as she feels his lips over her neck. "Please…"_

_His hand slipped beneath her shoulder, holding her steadily under his palm as the other remained firmly over her hip, sighing. "Tell me, Arya…" he whispered into her neck, fingers kneading the flesh of her hip. Tremors of covetousness lust broke through every subtle pore of her being, her hand stealing up his body and over his head, holding him, enticing his desire. "Tell me what you want." There was an ache within his voice, a notional craving speared through tentativeness. It was all the more demoralizing to her being, hearing him, feeling him, waiting for him to succumb to the very desires his mentality withheld… all to simply ask her what she wanted. "Tell me…"_

_She pushed her hips forward then, hearing him breathe in heatedly as she met him again, deeply, swaying into the effortless stir of motion against his body. "I want you to move," she said, rasping into his ear, lips profound over his lobe. "And I want you to feel everything…" a kiss upon his jaw, lips prolonging over his skin, feeling him grip her tightly around her hip. She reels. "Just feel… do not wait, never wait, and just… move…" and he thrusts forward, hard, and groans. Her eyes lipped opened, and she whimpers._

_Pressed against her mindlessly, suppressing her down and into the bed, he held her to him and thrust forward, bringing her bear shoulder to his lips and kissing her faintly. Her eyes are shut, overwhelmed and completely sentient to his body, moving her hips to the notion of his drive, bending into him, wavering through each gripping tremor that coursed within her. She felt feverish, high and soaring beneath reality, somewhere distant and unfathomable to the mind. Small whimpers escaped her mouth, moving her hand to stream through his hair, using her thumb to chafe his neckline, besieging herself within his longing. He grazed his teeth over her collarbone, pressing his head just below the neck and thrusting, groaning to the satisfaction it created, and she revels in its effect._

_Encompassed within his fiery adoration, perched sensually upon a glorious cascade of sensation, she hears him within night, within the moonlit shadow and feeble breeze, she hears his voice, everything. She grips him to her, lifting her hips and meeting every poignant drive he gave, muttering things diminutive to the ear. She heard him making low sounds, nimble and faint against her neck, as though the words were throttled and compressed within his chest, as if he were crying. A deep and ardent tremor passed through him and into her, over and over again, making her cry out amid the dark, matching him in every faultless way and yielding into his urgent possession, falling ceaselessly without delay. It was intoxicating._

_His face was pressed animatedly into her shoulder, breathing strongly against her skin, fingers kneading rigidly as though trembling, sheathing himself within her and provoking her state of being through each convulsive shift and thrust. He was vital, warm and living, and she relished that. The erotic slide of his body over hers made her shudder, the very concept of it hindered her until she gasped and kissed his neck abruptly, lips dependant and urging as she wrapped an arm over his waist and pulled. And he plunged deeper, harder and persistent through his drive, moaning hoarsely with bated breath as he leaned forward and took her lips with his, urgent and jarring. Her mouth opened to attain his, moving her tongue and lips to the rhythm of his dependency, gasping helplessly into his mouth._

_Arya lifted her leg, bent it and curved it just below his thigh, and she arched zealously into his body, kissing his jaw and opening herself up for him further, beseeching and insistent for his prolongation, quivering within his hold. She felt his arms slip beneath her, leaning into her and panting faintly against her, and he thrust, again, holding himself against her, groaning, and thrust again. A sharp breath drew from within her, whimpering vociferously and clutching his shoulders with her hands, holding him to her as she leaned up and kissed his forehead breathlessly. Her heart began to pump harder, her arms felt unsteady, and somewhere deep within her able being she felt the conscious being within her dapple and yield to the tenure of his endless inferno. It was overpowering, unpredictable and completely enticing, and she succumbed to it candidly without further thought._

_He enfolded her, encompassed her within himself, hugged her close and drew his thigh between hers and drove into her, making an erotic cradle with his body and drawing out her voice through each impetuous thrust he mustered. She cried out again, forestalled upon his beguiling lure, enthralled and completely obtained within his fervour, lost._

"_Eragon…" she muttered helplessly, unable to withhold the pleading notion from escaping into her voice, "Eragon…" he drove into her, thrusting hard and holding her tightly against him, "Ah…" her head fell back, eyes abroad in an irresistible mania. Lustful and incoherent, her hips heedless in their movements, her body bending in such affecting ways, and wave after wave of wanton sensation ravished her body in vast torrents of pleasure, intense and completely vivacious. Rendered under his ever entwining grasp, filled with his tendency, she lurched into his body, her back bending, curving beneath him and meeting his pulsing rhythm, moaning, gasping, and breathing heatedly through each surpassing thrust he bestowed._

_Tilting her head to the side, her lips sought his, lifting herself up and running her hands through his hair. He left a hand on the bed as the other bared over her back, holding both of them as he thrust again, groaning into her mouth. Her lips parted silently, lingering over his own, starring, eyelids barely staying ajar. As she looked at him, she suddenly felt enthusiastic, excited. The vast expand of emotions welling within her were beginning to surround her completely, concealing her within an envelope of overwhelming fervent. She felt high and florid over the mass of such refuge, her heart beginning to quell with such realization. Her want, her desire, all profound and reeling, all rallied and fell upon him. Imagining her life, her very essence of being, how many times she rebuked his affections, imagining her life without him now seemed utterly useless. How had she, upon so many chaste moments held between them, how had she not felt so alight? Imagining seemed the only sane initiative, but still pointless. Yes, indeed, here and now, forever, she loved him._

_She was unsure why she did it, the awareness, the emotion, the possession of her feathered soul whispering soundless words to take control, but she did it anyway despite her rationality, and the feeling was completely overpowering. Her arms, strengthened by the course of her wanton desire, slipped effortlessly beneath his shoulders, holding him to her, something lidded possessively within her visceral gaze, and turned him suddenly onto his back. Bodies tangled upon the sheets, diminutive whimpers of comprehension emanating through the night, and her entire being sighed with need._

_She quickly leans down, a hand just above his head, the other at his waist, lips imperative over his, legs holding him securely beneath her body, seeing his eyes besieged in disbelief for a fleeting moment, but gone within another. His hands slipped over her hips, tilting his body down and then up, thrusting into her and breathing in harshly from below. Her head fell, meeting his forehead as their skin pressed against one another, heat and passion delved within a vast conflagration of many leering emotions. Long tresses of ebony hair veiled him within her fiery haze, arms firm and moving about her body, muttering almost inaudibly through each gaping breath he took to withhold his winded voice. She convulsed above him._

_Her body seared with covetous want, her eyes slipping closed as she leaned back and slanted her agile neck to the side, sweeping her hair over her shoulder and abrading her hips over his vigorously, whimpering as he thrust forward and pulled her hips to meet him, swaying above him and trembling under the fever of his rigorous movements. His body lay beneath her, subjected and completely becoming of her conjuration, pressing into the bed, and then lifting to meet her gouging shifts above him, holding her, enticing her, feigning helplessness, and then reaching up to take what was always his. And she gave it to him, gave him everything, it was all his, all of her, his. _

_And she seemed utterly resilient to anything apart from him. Everything, anything, all of it, none of it stood still and unmoving with him in comparison to their feeble attributes. She felt him beneath her, thrusting, groaning, moving within the subtle shifts of her enclosing body, numbing all and whatever trivial thing that stood between them, pressing into her as he watched her above him. His hands were slipping over her back, caressing over her arching spin and upward. She felt him shift again, eyes slipping open and falling upon his own, the direct look sending tremors throughout her lithe body. He gripped her shoulders suddenly, surprising her through the myriad of emotions and sitting up suddenly, lips chaste and urgent over her neck as he kneaded the skin over her hip and leaving the other entwined within her hair, lifting himself into her._

_She could feel something within her, something profound rising to the pinnacle and surpassing every able feeling of her being. It came with each relentless thrust he produced, gripping her into him and pulling her down, lips stooping down her neck and over her face. From the gallows of her sanity, she could feel herself somewhat departing, dismembering from an aspect of a visionary semblance as if it were a fantasy conceived by an idealist, a dream. She felt herself being pulled further and further into an unknown fantasy, panting helplessly above him now as she heard him moan boisterously into her neck, shuddering uncontrollably. Whatever it was, whatever the feeling, it was rising still, shaking and rendering them both incapable of thought, burning and searing all defying notions, and it was exquisite._

_Their pace, already rapid and persistent, quickened further as he held her to him, head tilted up and lips trailing just below her jaw, thrusting into her through fast, unremitting drives. And through each thrust, she panted almost breathlessly, feeling the inferno raging within her kindle further, suppressing everything she ever deemed coherent, engulfing her. There was only him, there was only her, together, as they brought about the most indulging sensations known to her conscious being. She rasped heatedly over his forehead, feeling the perspiration between them bathe their bodies, his hair damp and moist as her hands kneaded the scalp, whimpering against him. He was quick, holding her still in his arms, unwavering, and voice faltering through each passing gasp he took. Close now, like the numbing shifts of their bodies cumbering against one another as they moved together, their voices drowned, the night resplendent, the breeze through her long hair veiling over both of them, moans of satisfaction hounding throughout the dark, and her being began to shudder wildly as she tensed against him finally._

_There was a light within her eyes, a lucent shade amid the darkness, and then the ignition of life bounded within her suddenly, illuming her entirely, and she cried out. A splendour of sudden realization and radiant humidity, awakening to the aurora of a bright, enkindled soar, she felt him rupture beneath her as he too fell to the grandeur pooling within him, crying with her and keeping her tight against him as they began to slow leisurely with the last few restrained thrusts, breathing together, moving together, alight and flushed within the haziness of their fulfilment._

_They sat there in the silence, eyes closed, the sounds of their breathing the only acquaintance of their existence. She leaned against him, her head feathered tenderly over his brow, holding him to her. She felt him move slightly, his arms slipping almost limply down below her waist. Mere moments passed, straying through the alley of her easement, counting on through more, until finally the feeling passed through everything. Her entire body sung with feeling, stalled upon the remittance of her coherence, drifting through the aglow of relief and solace. She breathed in once again, the air soothing her, the afterglow certainly abiding over her lulled body._

"_Arya?" Her ears heard the veil of muffled concern before she even had the chance to note his voice within the dark, and she sighs contently at the sound of it. Her heart, now living and soaring with life, kindled with enamour. Her eyes, sealed from reality, slowly, as if stalled upon an impending assurance, slipped open onto the world and she saw him. He was looking at her, as though he'd been looking at her forever through the darkness, watching her, waiting, always waiting._

_And as though he'd never heard it beforehand, she whispered softly through the ancient language, "I do. I love you." She was utterly breathless, literally, her breathing catching within her throat as she looked down at him. The action seemed unavoidable, for she could do nothing, if ever vividly, but stare at him. _

_And then he smiled, his merriment lidded feverishly over his face as he watched her beneath his hooded eyes, hands resting contently over her thighs when he kisses her again, slowly, gently through the sensualism of their prolonged ambiance. They linger over hers when he pulls back, faintly, as though hesitant to leave them. His voice consoled her tenderly, bringing her amenity as well as relief when he spoke._

"_And I you, forever." She sighed against him._

_His hand traced her skin delicately as they sat there, still, entwined and breathing. He stopped on her chest, however, where the Neverwinter pendant laid, luminous and beautiful within the moonlight. Softly, he pressed his hand against her chest, the pendant resting beneath his palm, sighing, and kissed her neck lightly before bringing them down and onto the bed. Weariness began to take its toll._

"_Will you be here when I wake?" she asks, eyes closed and voice fading. She doesn't know what possessed her to ask that._

"_Would you like me to be?"_

"_Yes." She could feel herself falling._

"_Then I'll be here…"_

_And then darkness, lapping her vision and obscuring her beneath a reverie. Nothing more._

_

* * *

_

***Giggles* **

**If this wasn't a sad, dramatic, ZINGY relapse of memory, I'd say our protagonist here has one conclusive mind for the warped, and dirty, instances of life. I need water. Reviews would defiantly ease the distorted crevices of my mind I think. At least push it to 100 before the weeks out. If you don't, then feel free to lay quietly in the knowledge that I HAVE the last chapter finished, a nice chapter might I mention, completed and ready, and that I'll simply discard it if I'm not satisfied. Lay quietly. Lay quietly. **

**Does this answer a few questions? Cheerio! **


	4. One Door Closes, Another Door Opens

_**When one door closes another door opens; but we so often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door,  
that we do not see the ones which open for us.**_

_**-Alexander Graham Bell**_

_Upon the hour of dawn she stirs, within the lulling glow of amenity and content, she slumbers wilfully between reality and a waking dream. She is herself and not herself, straying soundlessly within a veil of concealed warmth and euphoria as she drifts within and out her conscious being, falling through the depths and rising to the surface, aware and completely oblivious at the same time. The sweetness homing within the room held unmasked amid the air, sauntering her surroundings and inclining ever so delicately to her idle thoughts, provoking her softly to bestir and awaken upon its aroma. She is awake and not awake, and perhaps it is safe to assume that she enjoys this, being upon the subtle verge of tilting on either stupor, __but she is in neither the clarity nor the right of the mind to decline either of them at this time. And so she drifts between both, lulled to the calling of their lenient consoles…_

_And now, upon stirring within the morning's quiet lucidity, her eyes begin to flicker upon the lights growing enclosure lapping her room, the vertical inclination of the sun mellowing throughout her surroundings, dappling their ambience and leaning to her senses. Upon its quiet arrival, though, she welcomes it entirely, open to its tranquillity. _

_She churns gently within her rest, shifting slowly as her feeble ligaments finally bid themselves the luxury of movement through her tender motions, the sheets encased around her body entombing the same, tender warmth sheathing lucidly within her abdomen. She feels alight, perched with ease, a gentle feeling. It was hard to distinguish._

_Her eyes were partially closed, still, sealed and hidden from reality, but breathing in now, inhaling softly, she smiles faintly within the melodious of serenity filling her being, encompassing her state of mind and thought. She sighs, feeling everything and anything course within her body as she shifts again, moving, bidding her body to explore every insinuating detail roaming her able thoughts, content. How easily it was to sway her being._

_However attuned she was to her surroundings; she would not be as easily swayed into a prolonged forgetfulness, as it would seem now. Her eyes slipped open, the light within the room greeting her without a break of measure. She allowed her sight to adjust, prolonging her subdued moments spent in warmth, knowing soon she'd have to rise and heed to the day, the ever dutiful elf, spiteful, yet adoring in so many symbolist ways. Agile as the lithe creature she was, she stretches, feeling her body succumb to lividness, and breathes in again… and beside her, a small, barely audible laugh sounds beneath the silence, quietly as though to elude her ears. She'd not be fooled easily… _

_Instinctively, quickly, she searches out the bearer instantly, looking, searching until finally her eyes fell upon him, and she smiles again. He was looking at her, still, his brow unflinching and his body unmoving, something strange lidded within his gaze, something she couldn't quite place, but doesn't think to note it further. How long had he been watching her? He seemed completely resilient to anything but her, watching her, looking as though she were on a pedestal, eyes afoot as though in a questionable manor. They were unfathomable and distinct, subdued within a deep, silent gesture meant only for her. He was lying quietly over his abdomen, his arm perched before him and hiding his face slightly, only a little, but she sees him no matter his efforts. She sees him smile suddenly, watches as he looks at her still, ever silent and cautious for reasons unknown to her, but were there nevertheless._

_She turns toward him, moving only to mimic his posture as she lies over her stomach, feeling his eyes upon her, never faltering, never turning or moving away, always on her, watching, waiting. The sheets covering her fell suddenly, slipping casually over to the curve of her hips and staying there as she finally settles over the bed, long tresses of black hair falling over her back as she reaches out to take his forearm, sighing. Her voice is but a diminutive whisper to his ears, "How long have you been awake?" she asks, her eyes bright and ardent._

_He doesn't say anything. She wonders, perhaps even speculates, whether or not he'd say anything at all, but still, as she waits patiently, there was nothing, not a word, and only silence. The smile on his face, however, small and becoming of his will, widened a little more as he watched her, only faintly, but enough to speak the words he refused to say beforehand. The merriment of his stare, the silent, prolonged sentiment layering his features, it was all there, perhaps hiding, but she knew well enough that he had been awake long enough…_

_His stare, willing and guarded, remained perfectly fixated upon her face, a surpassing moment lasting instances. She could feel the deep, gesturing gaze pierce the very forefront of her mind, watching, quiet, looking as though she was a fragmental vision dreamt by an idealist. She could feel every fracture of her being fall to the gaiety of his stare, the gentle rise and fall of his chest the only subtle inkling of his presence. "Will you say nothing?" she asks suddenly, voicing her thoughts before noting their abruptness. She doesn't regret it._

_He looked at her, seeing her through the bearings of her soul, soundlessly, a glimmer within his eyes as he stared without moving. It seemed as if he could remain motionless for days, willing for her to compel into the mindless depths of her predicament. __It was profound and reeling how everything now seemed, without demeanor or thought, reliant upon the sound of his voice. Something wasn't right._

"_Eragon?" _

_Arya's eyes bore deeply into his from where she laid, resolute and unremitting through all aspects, her angelic face reflecting the very tepidity she felt within herself only moments ago, fading, her eyes ablaze with nerves as she looked at him. __Something passed over his face suddenly, a contort of subdued conjecture, but it was soon diminished beneath his charade once more, only this time, she noted, something remained, something poignant. Now, as she watches him still, now, watching him carefully, he looks… sad. It was hard to understand why. Something within her withered and fractured._

"_Eragon." She says, no reasonable motive or questionable dialect, there was only the name, and there was only her voice, straining through the confusion of his pretense. "Please…" she says, whispering, "Say something."_

_The smile was gone, vanished and fallen within his perplexing travesty. __Perhaps, maybe, it was unnatural, she thought suddenly, to feel one thing and then fall within another. Nothing seemed apparent as she watched his face change suddenly, shift, and mold into something she'd never known him to possess until now. He was bearing into the pores of her delicate eyes as if he was reaching for her soul, caught within the vision of her irradiate features, his eyes reclusive now, hesitant, reluctant to even speak the words that seemed so minimal now. A complicated edge settled over her suddenly, something within her lurching and leering as though to mock her. Something was, as formidable as it sounded, indeed amiss._

"_Please__…" she whispered again, withering under his stare, retreating now within her barriers…_

_And then he smiles sadly, forlorn and completely subjected to some unknown instability mulling his rationality. She didn't understand it. He looked dejected; willing to accept whatever it was plaguing his mind, despondent to everything and anything now, and then he sighed regretfully. "Arya__…" His delicate __voice chimed like a whisper, hushed upon the tone of his quietness. It seemed, as she watched him still, it seemed he didn't want to say anything anymore. "You need to wake up."_

_A frown surpassed her wilful face, extending within the surbase of her being. "What?"_

_As though performing an act to reassure her suddenly, he slowly reached out toward her, careful not petrify her further into bewilderment as he made his careful actions clear by the hesitance he was taking, and placed it softly upon her cheek. They didn't move, everything stalling within their silent conveyance toward one other, her eyes agape in amazement as she watched him. "You need to wake up," he said again, and nothing more._

_Her mouth parted slightly as if the words lulled to her lips were meant to be spoken, but were never said. He waited for her to comprehend, patient to simply watch her forever until the moment of recognition. Whilst her eyes had not left his, it was clear that, whilst still looking into them, that they had easily turned from confusion to concern. She really had no idea__…_

"_I don't understand."_

"_Nor do I," he whispered fondly, __a smile within his voice now as he reached up and brushed the side of her face with a delicate hand, as if he was afraid that she'd wither and die beneath his touch. "But you cannot be here anymore."_

_She felt the trembling need to scream. "What do you mean?" So depleted suddenly, her emotions, compressed and impassively hollow. "I'm here, with you! You're not making any sense!" __…__and now anger._

_He shook his head, still smiling, still watching her. "I am, Arya. You need to wake."_

_She __felt completely hindered and rendered useless suddenly, forsaken under the anger and sorrow rising within her. What did he mean? Why was he being so impenetrable? Nothing was making sense, she didn't understand. Gone was the feeling of amenity, lost upon a trivial notion falling within her bemusement. She wanted to stow away toward something more meaningful and understanding. This malady of rage and lunacy tearing through her head was beginning to unhinge her comprehension for reason, her sense of mind and intelligence. It was purely demoralizing, and he hadn't moved at all, unflinching and ever watchful over her being, secluded__…_

"_You cannot be here," he said again, willing for her to listen, murmuring. "You need to open your eyes, Arya__…"_

_She felt departed and astray, slumbering between reality and a waking dream. The awareness of such raw emotion began to strain her vivid mentality, forcing her to succumb to whatever it was he provoked within her, her thoughts and feelings amuck. She was beginning to doubt anything and everything that passed within a flash of her torpid eyes. "They are__…" she said, exhaling as though straining through each feeble breath._

"_No…" he whispered fondly, "They're not."_

_Everything stilled, everything lulled to the words of his pretense, murmuring little things that went amiss beforehand. A violent tremor of reanimation suddenly conversed within her, a disorienting feeling joining the crevasses of her soul together and stabilizing them as if the two separate unities were ready to combust into nothingness. She felt herself slip, falling forever, delving into unknown scapes, her__ consciousness seemingly beginning to leave the very pores of her being as she drifted skyward. Everything, indeed, backwards. Realization seemed utterly mirthless. _

"_Open your eyes__…"_

_She was completely motionless; the only movement flickering between them lidded soundlessly within her eyes, reassuring herself that this was, in retrospect, realistic and authentic, but she knew better then to believe such a thing. She knew now, despite what oppressive feats lurked beneath her, she knew._

"_No__…" she trembled with such sentiment, breathing, whispering slowly, "I don't want to."_

"_You must," his voice seemed to fade, "And you will."_

"_No."_

"_Arya," his voice was measuring, reassuring, but still unwavering in his argument. "It's only a memory…" he whispered suddenly, his voice but a hushed enclosure of his finale remorse._

_Her vision suddenly swung and pitched between scattered images and depicted thoughts, feathering upon a stupor of both strange and immobile feelings. He spoke as though she was nonexistent, feigning reality and passing through unexpected voids. Sights and sounds passed within her like a whirlwind of reminiscence, bellowing throughout remembrance as she watched him beneath her lashes, his face, his eyes, and the way each subtle emotion played upon his features like a forgotten melody, and the way he watched her, still, his fingers delicate of over her face, starring. He seemed different now, overshadowed somehow, as though some unknown darkness began to lap the room and pass within his being. He seemed to fade, just as his voice had barely moments ago__…_

"_I'm dreaming…" she whispered suddenly, her __apparent unconscious eyes beginning to glaze over within a blur of vividness upon the notion._

"_No," he said, leeringly amused as he grinned against the bed, growing fainter, "Remembering…"_

"_You're not here."_

_A shadow within his eyes. "No."_

_She tried grasping the remaining fragrance from disappearing from view, but he was fading now, leaving her, blurring within her makeshift reminiscence of things beyond. It was pointless to even attempt to withhold it. The passing moments withstanding between them, leaving now, she relishes within the feeling as it washed between them. She longed for more, but all she could do was see within solace, and watch through the solitude of comfort, of a memory._

"_Open your eyes…" she heard, the voice sounding oddly familiar…_

_And then nothing, she was alone, lost upon a nothingness consuming everything from within her view. She felt like crying out, screaming within the blackness where nothing could hear her, hindering herself useless until every part of her soul was quenched and drained of life. She was drowning upon the emptiness of the foreshadowed barren, depriving her of all feeling. She felt… nothing._

"_I love you…" a voice, fickle amongst the darkness, one she knew, but couldn't identify…_

_And then, like the undertone of a silent murmur, a hum of remembrance summoning her waking thoughts once more, she plucks a memory from within her being, exhaling suddenly upon the recognition. "Eragon…" her voice again, strange yet still sober, bestirring among her head as if to rally her from a waking dream…_

"_Goodbye…"_

_She was slipping unconditionally, straying downward into oblivion. Everything seemed like a feeble illusion of sudden reemergence, a type of rebirth into a world full of revelation and captivity. It was happening extremely fast, wavering within and out a glance of shadow and night swept surroundings. She felt herself being pulled further and further from an unknown chimera, as if awakening from a forgotten slumber. "Wake up, Arya…" she heard again; seemingly for the last time in this conjuring dreamscape, a gentle voice… a familiar voice._

_She breathed in, closed her eyes, and slipped away__…_

_A whisper… "It's only a memory…" and then nothing._

_

* * *

_  
And they opened.

She was lying on the ground, upon the surbase of where the grass met the willow above her, shadowed by the silhouette of its mass. She couldn't begin to fathom how long she'd been there, drifting, wavering upon a darkness lost to the recollections of her thoughts. Her wistful thinking had eluded her entirely, making her feel somewhat foolish and resentful of her sudden forlornness, but she doesn't think much more of it. Instead, discarding her deliberation as well as her plaintive thoughts, she sits up.

It was night, she noted dully, her mentality drudging forgotten woes for her deliberate forgetfulness, but she cannot tell how late it's grown, however. Enveloping the darkening woodland into a silhouetted confinement, the radiance of silver moonlight seeped through the night and dappled the ancient pines like water through cloth. It seemed undeniably peaceful, tranquil, suspended within a deep admiration unknown to her previously. It seemed as though it'd been forever since she looked within the night's conformity. It was beautiful.

Taking a quick breath, she exhales within night as she runs a hand through her hair, feeling the silken strands pool between the webs of her hands and fall through the air. She looked to night once more, thinking, wondering upon so many notions that eluded her beforehand, reminiscing. Dreams were such fickle things, she thought. Sometimes, they could be agonizingly perfect, warm, and golden; a taste of utopia as you slept. Sometimes they were simply agonizing, a silhouette of the troubles that plagued you within a waking life. She often thought nightmares were merely tools to render their victims useless, but perhaps, upon some stray thought bellowing within the forefront her mind; perhaps she'd be wrong to assume such a thing. A nightmare never says goodbye. A nightmare never says "I love you…"

Sighing quietly amid her deliberation, she cannot help the stray emotions within her from running rampant now. She cannot presume to know what life may hold, or what feats may crumble in the sign of desperation, but she knows only so few ideas that hold truths amongst lies. She knows realities measures, and what dreams provoke. She knows that dreams offer the solace in which reality can never grant, and she knows that dreams provide the wisdom in which reality never knows. She's had dreams, and she's had nightmares, and perhaps, now, it was safe assume she only overcame her nightmares because of her dreams. They were only memories, after all…

Cynically, she'd never been intentionally afraid of the dark whenever she closed her eyes. More or less, she felt dependent on it, waiting to simply find the solace awaiting her on the other side. Not a spectrum of loneliness or some self-induced hatred of reality was going to stop her from thinking otherwise. The darkness was kind, her dreams were kind. They were never nightmares.

But she knew, despite these issues, the pity and the personal sympathy, she knew now that some things could simply never be. He would never be there, waiting for her, still…

And as she watches, her eyes bright and luminous within the night, looking still for some unknown consolation, she knows now to accept that. She needed to let go, even if it left her hindered, she needed to move forward.

Stirring quietly now, moving as though not to make a sound, she stands quietly and goes to walk, sighing once more in her wake, consoled. There's a breeze within the thicket that guards her presence, a shadow upon her back that obscures her being, but neither are tempting to look to, neither are bestirring her hesitance and looking to see what eluded her beforehand. It was beneath her now.

The Du Weldenvarden held the sweet lucidity basking throughout its dwelling, the gentle wisps and hums of the nights growing enclosure ceasing all subtle train of thought. She would always be strung up by the awe in which it held and the authenticity of its untouched wonder. Her breathing is mellowed, gentle like the easing balm of a faint mist upon the body. She is peaceful, content, and composed, her form attuned to the motion of her steady breathing as it rises and falls without a feebleness. And without a thought, able as her heart bids it, a tear slowly surpasses her eye as she walks, but smiles suddenly as it fell without a notion.

Ellesméra was rendered within a beautiful vibrancy of Maya blue, veiling the trees and interlacing within the dark. The dappled leaves and fertile life knew no bounds, but only ever grew to extend beyond the ever intertwining splendor of its untouched beauty. Elves still loomed within night, filling their occupations and leisure's of constant interest. The occasional glance stowed her way, saying nothing, but wondering so many unsaid things. Few would stray past her, quiet and able as the night bid them contently, and they would smile politely, greet her silently, she'd return it, and they'd continue, and so would she. A never ending charade of civility amongst strangers, but Arya was never one to deny them.

Just beyond the realms of Tialdarí Hall she stops, looking, eyes afar in a silent conjecture. Strengthening her resolve, she wipes what feeble tears are left, angry at herself somewhat for allowing them continue, but she doesn't think much more of it. Composing herself steadily, she rallies what sensibility she has left and slowly continues forth, ready for whatever laid ahead.

The gardens were just as lovely during the night, the sweetness of the flora held unmasked and collectively apparent beneath the pine mainstays lidded within the hall, flourished and radiant through every thriving aspect known within the eye. Sounds like whispered mutterings upon the evening hush greeted her casually, soothing and appeasing to the ear as they grew faint when she walked on. Another sound greeted her ear suddenly…

Arya stopped by the small bed of lilies shrouding the hollow by the stream, shadowed slightly by the juniper trees lingering over the glade, mind abroad in silent wonder. She wasn't sure at first, feigning rationality as she stood silently in the glade, her ears perched and listening. There was a restrained noise, near and fidgety, and then a sudden risible giggle emanating from within the underbrush. She frowned first, still unsure, but waited nevertheless despite her reasonable doubt playing at the forefront of her mind. Had she heard correct?

She watched then, silent, delving through both moonlight and shadow as her mother, Islanzadí, suddenly sauntered from around the bend of junipers with a distinct look upon her face, walking slowly toward her. Arya merely stood there, unmoving and gallant for no apparent reason, quiet as her mother finally stood before her, soundless and ever watchful, still. She nodded curtly, something strange lidded within the elf's eyes, "Arya."

Silence followed after, simply because Arya didn't know what to say. What ploys did her mother wish to invoke on her, what hidden masquerade had she set? Not long ago, she remembered, Arya had been searching for her, but something seemed strangely…

There was another noise, close this time, loud and veiled in merriment, the same giggling she heard before. Frowning once more, Arya's lips parted silently as she looked to her mother, but stopped when Islanzadí smiled suddenly. Arya's manor clearly exhibited the questionable notion upon her face, taken aback suddenly by her mother's act of exuberance, but her eyes were no longer on her mother. They were somewhere else.

Her eyes were by the juniper trees again, where they stayed inactive and still as she watched silently, motionless by the glade and attuned to the sounds shrouding the area, something within her lulling to the easement of her able thoughts, waiting.

A boy, no older than five or six, small yet immaturely brawny and adept in so many ways, ran through the junipers suddenly, giggling. Arya watched, silent, eyes alert and aware to the sudden change of atmosphere pressing her body, something within her, whatever attentive attribute that may be, lurched and sighed in every calming way. The feeling was ecstatic, rich, and undeniably endearing. And the smile, broadening over her face now, enchanting her being into complete and utter adoration, widened further until it knew no bounds. Nothing more seemed apparent anymore, all able thoughts, all surrounding elements and concepts, it all stilled, halted, falling soundlessly within the eyes of him. It was as though she could look forever without fading.

"We've been looking for you, my daughter." She heard, noting her mother's voice almost instantly, but she isn't listening. She kneels over the grass, still smiling, heart poignant and content in every way possible, and holds out her arms for him. Laughter filled her ear again, and she welcomes it like no other, stalling to hear it again, and again, and again. A beautiful joy, _her_ joy.

And when she feels him run into her arms, lively and jovial upon each racing step, she wraps her arms around him securely, pulls him to her and holds him close to her chest, sighing fondly into his untamed auburn hair. "Eragon…" she whispers suddenly, leaning her head down over his own, content to simply hold him forever, her son, her own.

"I hope you're not too distressed," chimed Islanzadí, a hint of amusement laced within her words as she watched the pair, "It was difficult not to rebuke his attempts firsthand when he insisted I take him to the Menoa Tree this morning. He can be rather… demanding when he wants to be, I'll admit. Much like yourself so long ago."

For the first time today, Arya found herself laughing, free and joyous, tilting Eragon's head toward her and feathering her lips over his forehead tenderly, looking into his eyes now, and he her, the deepest color of brown, as silent words were exchanged between them. He giggled again, cheeks red and brow radiant under the moonlight, starring at her warmly before leaping, running now, fast and agile toward the junipers again, occupying his mind with whatever recreational pursuit addled his keen mind, still laughing. She watched him for awhile, starring for no apparent reason, only watching, and then stands suddenly.

"Stories of the old and new, I'm assuming?" She asked, turning now to her mother once again.

"And climbing," she said, a hint of resentment within her voice. "He's quite the mischievous voyager, as it seems. Quite like his father."

Arya's smile faltered somewhat, varying slowly between cheerfulness and grief, subdued silently over the shadows befalling her heart. Beside her, she hears her mother sigh. "Arya," she says kindly, a grievance atoned within her careful words as she spoke softly, "I do not mean to tread upon such fragile feelings, but…" she paused, thinking, "Sometimes… no matter how much faith we have, we lose the people we care most about. But you never forget them."

Her eyes were to the ground, delving through unknown manias, listening ever willfully to the laughter aiding her ears in the distance. She could listen to it forever…

"And sometimes," she continued, willing for her to listen, "Sometimes, it's those memories that give us faith to go on." Arya felt a hand over her shoulder suddenly, pulling her from her forethought and rallying her mentality. Islanzadí looked at her quietly, a trace of a faint smile lidded over her beautiful face as she consoled her back to reality. "Reach out for the joys you have, Arya. Put them away in your mind. Keep them. Memories are the times you borrow, not to be caught up in. A simple moment lasts for a second, but the memory lives on forever, through both you," she gestured toward Eragon, "And through your son. They are, of course, only memories after all."

Arya watched Eragon, forestalled by the merriment within his laughter, the way he ran, his eyes, his voice, and they way each simple movement conveyed his adoring spirit. They seemed so simple, so casual and yet so complex at the same time. It's possible to forget how alive she truly feels, deep within. People can become dry and tired, angered by what fate deprives from them, just existing, instead of really living. Too often had she reminded herself of all the things she's constantly lost, drained upon the injustices of reality and its ever intertwining casualties. But it is too often people miss the things that matter, the moments that count. Always, she often found herself living in things forgotten, past moments, memories. But looking at him now, watching as he laughed, smiled, and ran, she cannot help her own smile, her own joy. He was absolutely adorable.

"Go now," Islanzadí began to walk away, looking once toward Eragon, and then back toward Arya, "The night is late, and tomorrow is bound to be another day of unknowns. He needs his rest, and so do you," she smiled once more, and then nodded graciously. "Goodnight, Arya."

She watched her mother go, leaving her alone within the night. Eyes lingering far too long upon the area of where she stood only moments ago, she breathed in once, suppressed whatever trepidation lingered within her, and started walking toward Eragon, smiling again.

"Come along," she said, reaching out her hand as he grasped it gently, still laughing, still smiling. And together, they walked toward her chambers, exchanging little talk and laughing together, hand in hand, her son, her joy, together.

Silence now, quiet, as he lies on his side over the bed, head inclined and arm just covering his beautiful face, eyes closed and straying through dreams, but she watches him still. There would be a night that she'd never need, a memory to quell an anger that she'd never miss, but if she could fall asleep knowing that he'd be here beside her every waking moment, then she'd open her eyes feeling completely content and disembodied from anything that treaded to cease it.

She leans her head down slowly, lays it upon the bed where he rests his, and watches him sleep. His breathing is soft, mellowed like the easing breeze through the night. He is peaceful, unmoving, and composed, his small and lithe form attuned to the motion of his steady breathing as it rises and falls without a feebleness. He is beautiful.

It would always be a test, in reality, merely to see which ones are worth passing, and those that are worth fighting for. After all this kind of sad ordeals and wallowing, even more, Arya finally came to a point in her life where she needed solitude more than comforting, more than a memory. She just needed to stop thinking and start enjoying what she called living. And now, before each night, the occasional smile on his face lets her know that he needs her as much as she needs him. There's a solitude in that, and no longer a darkness, a night in which she needed more, a meaning. No longer. She has him.

She raises her hand deliberately, guarded by her movements, but never hesitant over their spur. Carefully, she places her hand over his cheek, starring soundlessly at his face as she watches him silently through the night, her eyes searching for nothing in particular. Her hand strays down, just below the neck, cautious and attentive, and rests it tentatively over Elvalëryn, The Neverwinter pendant she'd given him… to remember his father…

Sometimes you don't know what you're missing until you reach out and touch it. Sometimes you can't see how beautiful something is until it steps back into the light. What she thought was comforting merely turned into something inessential and unnecessary, but needing nevertheless. Perhaps it was even a burden to remind her of what she could no longer have, what she could no longer share, but of course, in the end, everything just… lights up.

He stirs quietly, moving within a small lurch of his unceasing trance, but then settles almost immediately within sleep, his body lulling to the silence once more. She slightly withdraws her hand, cautious not to disturb him further, but he does little more than sigh in comfort, unwavering. She waits silently, hushed upon the tone of his breathing, watching. He still doesn't move, as if his dormant consciousness deliberately holds until dawn, his body perfectly eased. It is until she knows for sure, with his being entirely content and solaced, that she lifts her hand once more and places it upon the curve of his small neck. She leaves it there for the remainder of night, unsure of his awareness, satisfied by her amenity in his significance, peaceful.

When the sleep came, she allows her eyes to close upon its arrival, slipping closed with Eragon resided among her thoughts, both of them. She could feel herself smile as she drifted within quietness, her hand upon his neck unmoving. Darkness once again lapping her sight, only this time with lighter atones entwined with it, she dreamt beyond all measure, seeing through a world hampered with clouds, swaying unto morning. One door closes, another one opens…

* * *

_He stands there amongst the trees, silent and displaced within everything else that stands between him and her. He's watching her, still, smiling slightly as he walks toward her, his eyes cunning and withdrawn as though speculating, still cautious, still hesitant, always with her. It seems he'll always be, as though the very notion was encrusted deep within his rationality, demanding for his tentativeness whenever he watched her. She only smiles in return when he finally stands before her, rendered within the silence of their conveyance._

_There was a flicker in his eyes, a silent murmur within a small glint, and then he sighs gently as he leans down slowly, still smiling, and feathers his lips over her own, inviting and warm, and holds her to him, gentle, tenderly, as though she'd eventually break and slip from within grasp like silken fragrance. But he knew, nevertheless, that she wouldn't. Everything slips away, sooner or later, but nothing is ever forgotten, nothing is truly discarded like bittersweet moments of fragility. He knows, she knows, and it's what leads them forward, forever until either one of them moves on, whether it be in this life or the next. Sooner or later, they'd see one another again. But not yet._

_It is, of course, only a memory._

-  
Hush, it's okay, dry your eye,  
Soul mate dry your eye,  
'Cause soul mates never die…

Placebo – "Sleeping With Ghosts"  
-

* * *

**BAM! Questions disclosed? Speculations at ease? Fabulous! Down to the point though, He's dead! But they have son, whom she named after Eragon, and every night she lividly, if not depressingly, basks in the memories of what they once contently shared. Yeah? Of course, I had a scene that explains what, exactly, happened to our lovely protagonist, all noble and valiant, the usual hoo-ha, but I decided to go against it and have you, the reviewers, sum up your own inquisitive conclusion. Because I'm that nice. Tah. Honestly, it kills me that there's over 100 or more views per chapter and I get only 10. 10!  
**

**Fair thee well for now.  
**


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